


Firsts

by bluish_kiss



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Haruno Sakura-centric, Minor Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, POV Haruno Sakura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27768349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluish_kiss/pseuds/bluish_kiss
Summary: Sakura imagined many firsts with Sasuke, but reality can leave its own impressions.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 4
Kudos: 80





	Firsts

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not claim to own these characters. I reworded and edited some of the phrasings and scenes from the original I wrote several years back on ff.net.

Sakura imagined many firsts with Sasuke:

A cool spring day with his hand in hers. The dusty street of their hometown. A bright, white parasol. The cotton dress she'd wear too early, leaving goosebumps down her arms. The warm, safe feeling of being the prettiest girl in town. The heat of his fingers tugging her own as they take their first steps forward, together.

A summer evening in a pretty yukata that compliments her hair and eyes. The first time she will catch him blushing at the sight of her. The heat on his cheeks are visible, even under the dim lantern lights. The breath she catches in her throat when she tugs on his haori sleeve for walking too fast. His eyes turn unexpectedly to meet her own as fireworks explode overhead.

A fall afternoon. Red leaves the same red as the fan on his back. A red bridge over a cold black stream. A black umbrella rattling to the rhythm against the wind, causing him to accidentally bump his elbow against hers. She turns slightly at the contact to feel his breath brush against her cheek and it is the first time he has ever been so close. In the scented grayness, he hums an apology and she feels the vibration of it travel through her, so softly she forgets to exhale. Her heart thunders in her chest, too loudly to go unheard. Afraid to turn her head, she misses the softness in his gaze. 

A chilly winter morning. She is delighted at the first snowfall in years. There are not enough to even make one, pathetic snowball. They experiment on gathering puny tufts that collapse immediately, failing to fly any distance as they try to lob it back and forth. Eventually, he settles to more effectively shoving her down to the ground so he could shovel snow down her back as she shrieks with vengeful protests. And even so, she will be the first to still, because it will be the first time she'll hear him laugh.

* * *

But it is not Sasuke with whom these firsts occur. Instead, the moments are not always as soft or as fleeting, collecting through the seasons into an unshakeable impression:

A chilly spring morning, cold and grey. The dirt is everywhere. It clings between her exposed toes and smudges itself on her soaked clothes. She's so wet she’s numb from the misty rain and unrelenting winds. She's also swearing up a storm as she struggles to cover the small, rare herbs she's planted the year before, wrestling with the cumbersome plastic wrap.

Naruto's hand suddenly descends onto her own frozen fingers, reminding her to take that deep and calming breath that she's been holding in. His hands are surprisingly still warm and her fingers tingle at the heat of them, trying to come back to life.

He looks more amused than she feels he has a right to. His mouth form words of encouragement drowned out by the sound of wind, rain, and the flapping of plastic. His blond hair is darkened and plastered to his equally drenched and dirt-smudged face. His blue eyes appear duller under the cloudy skies. His eyelashes clump together and drip icy rain drops down his cheeks, often blinding him as the wind buffets their faces. It threatens to snatch the plastic from their clutches, but Naruto moves to use his body to partially shield her from the worst of it.

Sakura stares. In that moment, she will forget the blinding rain and the cold in her bones. Instead, it is a feeling she has no name for yet. For the first time a thought that has only ever flitted through her mind blooms into a permanent awareness in her body. It adds something more than gray to their rainy world as she looks up to meet his steady gaze: Naruto is taller, and his warm hands can now engulf her own.

* * *

A humid summer afternoon. The heat is unrelenting. Sakura remembers wishing for a cool breeze and not just the ineffectual shade she is hiding under. The sweat on her back makes the cotton shirt cling to her uncomfortably, so every movement is a sin. It is during this immobility that she senses Naruto's approach. He cheerfully calls out to her but it is simply too much effort to turn. She barely manages to grunt a greeting before going back to sulking at the stifling air.

Of course, because of her own slothfulness, she ends up yelping at the cold glass suddenly pressed up against her sweaty neck.

"Watermelon juice," Naruto offers helpfully with a grin while ignoring her baleful glare. Lucky for him, she's too hot and too grateful to do more than yank it out of his hand. After a long sip, Sakura relents with an audible sigh and finally manages to return Naruto's earlier grin.

"Your face is kind of red," she observes, smiling lazily up at him as a pathetically warm breeze rustles the leaves overhead. It offers none of the comfort she wishes for and only manages to disrupt the shadows patterning Naruto's face. Sakura notices how odd he continues to look. It takes another full heartbeat for him to blink out of it and look away. "Did you get a sunburn coming here?" she asks, more curious than concerned.

Naruto answers with a noncommittal shrug.

Sakura scoots over in the shade, feeling generous with her space. She's so contented with his gift she won't even push him to explain his vagueness. At first, he ignores her offered seat, only responding when she raises a brow.

"Perhaps... it's a sunburn," he lies when he finds his voice and grins at her, as if he could distract her with a smile. The moment stretches into the buzz of the cicadas resuming over them. Then, as if defeated by his own awkwardness, he finally plops down a little too hard next to her. The sheepish look lingers after his initial wince and he continues to avoid her gaze. He follows this by rubbing a nervous hand over his stubble and then his mouth, like a man with something to hide.

Sakura blinks at his unusual reticence, at the red on his cheeks that intensifies and diminishes in the silence between them, and for the first time she realizes that Naruto can be shy.

* * *

A still warm fall. With her favorite T-shirt on and a dusty parasol slung rakishly over a still tanned shoulder. Sakura wanders the marketplace, eyes searching for treasures. She easily locates the figs freshly picked from the southernmost regions of the Land of Fire. A brown face and weather beaten hands greet her as she picks two baskets with anticipation and glee.

"What are those?" Naruto inquires, appearing out of the blue as the old shopkeeper hands Sakura her bag.

"Figs, Naruto," Sakura answers matter-of-factly, a smirk on her lip. "Don't tell me you've never had one before."

Naruto scrunches his face up, and she knew right then he's never even heard of the fruit. "Who'd want to eat a vegetable that looks like that?" he retaliates, huffing his chest and crossing his arm. He looks away in defiance, missing the sparkle in her eyes for confirming her judgement.

Sakura, on the other hand, is torn between laughing at him and shaking her head in bewilderment. She chooses to walk over to a public fountain instead, setting her parasol aside to dust off one plump fig before giving it a rinse. "It's not a vegetable, Naruto." She corrects him with a lecturing finger, more amused than annoyed as he follows her detour. She takes a bite and smiles with satisfaction, letting the sweet and honeyed taste unravel on her tongue. "See? It's delicious." She assures him with a chewy grin before theatrically swallowing the delicious morsel in her mouth and licking her lips.

Naruto gives her a stubborn and skeptical look in response, unwilling to admit his ignorance. Sakura rolls her eyes at him and reaches into her bag for another. _He can't judge it if he doesn't try_ , she reasons, and is entirely surprised when Naruto chooses that moment to reach over. His fingers loosely grasp her wrist and with a gentle pull he steadies her hold. He smirks at her from under his bangs before taking an exaggerated bite out of her half-eaten fig. He was definitely trying to make a point, but Sakura is frozen. For a moment, she loses all composure and can only stare at Naruto with wide-eyed, breathless shock as he chews.

"I guess it's... _OK_ ," Naruto finally concedes, scratching at his whiskers with a familiar pout for having to admit being wrong. It is only then that he notices her unusual stillness. "Uh... Sakura-chan? You okay there?" Naruto asks. He quickly drops her wrist, his body instinctively taking a step back, unsure if an attack is imminent. He is only beginning to realize that he might have done something inappropriate, but he still isn't quite sure of the what or the why.

"I-I can't have this now," Sakura stutters, belatedly yanking her already freed wrist to her chest. It is abrupt but the action and the loudness of her voice is only an echo beneath the rush of blood in her ears. She barely feels the bag of figs hitting her torso due to her sharp reaction. She can only see that her delayed reply rattles Naruto but she ignores his surprised look. It is no comparison to how rattled she already is. To throw him off from focusing on her confusion, she looks around for something to do. Seeing the left-over fig in her hand, she contemplates dropping it on the ground and stomping on the incriminating evidence, but decides instead to shove it back into his mouth as he opens it to ask… _something_ , and sharply turns away to avoid further interrogation.

Sakura power walks home, though it takes all her faculties to not run for the hills. She’s too disturbed to lecture him on decorum, the thought is not even a seedling in the chaos of her mind. The figs bump unnoticed against her hip and thigh as Sakura is gripped by the ghost of Naruto's fingers on the pulse of her wrist, his mouth tugging at the fruit in her hand. And no matter how far her feet carries her, she cannot outpace this moment.

When she finally begins to tire, Sakura stops to rest her trembling hands on her trembling knees. Her shaking is still out of her control, and she cannot help but glare at her uncooperative limbs. She presses a shaky hand to her heaving chest, forcefully trying to regulate it and the rebellious organ underneath. It takes long moments for the heated memory of Naruto's teeth and lips against the broken skin of her fig to finally reduce itself to a simmer. It takes long enough for her to feel the heavy weight of the lie she tells herself about her breathlessness, _only caused by a hasty retreat and nothing more_.

After all, it is the first time she will experience Naruto’s touch setting her afire.

* * *

A clear, winter evening. Sakura thinks with contentment that this night isn't looking very different from any other and is grateful for the reprieve from her action-packed occupation. The dark shapes of distant trees and the shadowed rooftops of buildings stretch before her. The streetlights of Konoha glitter, forming small streams of gold and creating isolated islands of highlighted contours that’s brighter than the stars.

"Hi Sakura-chan," Naruto's voice makes her turn and she greets him silently with a smile. "What are you doing up here?" he asks as he checks their surroundings before settling down to her left.

"It's a lovely night," she tells him. For a long stretch of moments they remain silent. Sakura is the one to break the stillness. She reaches a hand up to trace the horizon that blocks the Milky Way now that summer has passed. "How do they do it?" she murmurs to no one in particular, though mostly to herself.

Naruto follows her action and gives her a quizzical, sidelong look. His knees drop down as his gaze turns to follow where she is pointing. "Uh, what do you mean?" he inquires, not quite understanding what he’s looking at. He rubs the back of his neck in confusion and apology. Everything he knows about astronomy has been taught to him by Sakura, but there wasn't much in the skies he recognized.

Sakura, for a heartbeat, debates with herself on whether or not to elaborate. Naruto shifts again next to her but manages to wait her out. It's the silence that convinces Sakura to cave, even if only a little.

"When I was very young," Sakura begins, gathering her legs to her chest. "I thought it was really romantic how the cowherd and the weaver girl would meet once every year." She tilts her head further, as if she could still locate the summer stars on a winter sky. She can't help but smile a sad, secretive smile about these memories. "They had a whole day where everyone celebrated their romance. A testament that even impossible things could become reality if you loved hard enough," Sakura pauses here and takes a moment to remember her childish self. She both longs for and regrets those naive and foolish hopes. "Now, I wonder how the two could survive, year after year, knowing only that for one day they could be together. At the end of that day they'd have to say goodbye." Sakura's eyes mist so she does not turn to meet Naruto’s quiet gaze. She wishes for the ignorance of not knowing what it means to really miss someone - to spend day after day and year after year wishing for a reunion.

When she was young, she had wanted to be the child of a goddess, one who was elegant and graceful and could weave the most beautiful of cloth. She dreamed of the security assured with such a part. Sakura, like many young girls her age, had thought it would make her brave and deserving. Surely then she would be considered strong and worthy of admiration, confident and untouchable by reproach. She used to imagine the cowherd to be as handsome and capable as Sasuke. In her dreams, she believed that it would be so terribly romantic to be cast in such roles as legends.

Naruto's hand covers hers and brings her back to the present.

"She's worth the wait," he says earnestly and with the same conviction he's always had. "I think if a guy's lucky enough for the daughter of a goddess to love him, he'd be happy if she was happy." Naruto insists. When she turns to him in surprise, he startles her further by looking away.

How is it that Naruto could always excavate the most tender parts of her and speak to her with words she's always wanted to hear?

For another long moment, Sakura isn't sure what to say or how to act. It all sounds too much like a confession. But, unlike all the other confessions that Naruto has made in the past, this time he looks as if he cares about rejection. He looks like the one vulnerable and wanting.

Naruto's hand slips away as he gathers his long legs to his chest, taking his warmth with him. He curls in on himself and mirrors Sakura's own posture. The way he looks now seems terribly wrong on him, as if he was preparing for something harsh or dismissive from her. Sakura wonders if this was how she looked to him when she spoke about her childhood self. She wonders how he could believe there exists a part of her now, after all they had been through, that would ever dismiss his fears, his wants, or his pains.

When Sakura was a child, she sought for love and promises in the stars. She thought it was beautiful hair, confident smiles and dedicated devotion that could make others accept her. Every pain and hardship described in stories to her before bed and painted within her mind had seemed far off and worth it in the end. The ghosts on paper had always smelled like an old friend, as tender as the kiss of others' heartaches resonating in her chest.

If love was so beautiful, so tragic, Sakura would sacrifice her joys and her wants to obtain it...

Yet, month-by-month and year-by-year, Sakura learned the dull, constant pressure of separation. The slow siphoning off of her hope as she gets up every day to give and give, just for the right to pray to be a little bit worthy of all she was denied. She experienced the hunger to know where her teammates were and the dread of not knowing if her teammates were safe. She had been blind to both Sasuke and Naruto's pain despite her desire to save them from it, and she had to watch Kakashi's back even though she stayed.

No. Sakura learned slowly and quickly that beauty and fate could not save her. She wanted strong legs to take her to the ones who needed her no matter where they went. She wanted skilled hands knowledgeable enough to save the people entrusted to her. She wanted what it took to keep those she loved close and safe, shedding the self who had once sought those things from others.

Then one day Naruto returned, and behind him Kakashi and a new team followed. With the sun in his hair, he brought back all the colors gone from Sakura's world. On his lips, she saw the promise of a second chance.

That voice she had muted again and again came rushing back: _I don't ever want to be left behind again_.

Now, when she found herself bruised on the ground, it was the presence of Naruto's helping hand that pulled her up. When the cold winter days seeped under her skin after hard training sessions it was Naruto's back warm and steady against her own. Slowly, slowly, Sakura began to tentatively trust and hope that if he ran ahead without her, she'd catchup and beat some sense into him.

With each interaction Sakura felt the magnetic pull of Naruto willing to give her all that she hungered for. She had come to believe that she could only ever wait on crumbs, but Naruto gave her the courage to seek for what she wanted. So, when she saw how far he was willing to go to fulfill the promise that bound him to her, Sakura tasted the bitterest fear in her mouth. The pressure of Sasuke's absence and what he was becoming, of her old helplessness, punched through her like chakra and threatened to destroy the Naruto in front of her.

Could he not see that she is strong enough now to stand beside him? That they could bear this heavy weight of heartache and failure and disappointment, together. That if she was no longer alone, then neither was he.

Surprising them both, Sakura uncurls her own legs and scoots closer. Her knees bump against his thigh, chasing his warmth and this closeness. Feeling a bit awkward in the blankness of her mind, she hides her face from him to stare over his tense shoulder, trying to distill her feelings and her understanding into words. She feels his heat radiating off of his body, both soothing and distracting. So distracting that she misses the sound of his breath catching in his throat.

 _He is always so warm_ , she observers unhelpfully.

"You're an idiot," she finally whispers, laughing quietly at herself to try to break the spell. She is so close that the fog of her words ghosts against his neck, making him shiver. She feels it more than sees it and her stomach clench in response to his reaction. How strange, she thinks, despite her vaunted intelligence that it's taken her this long to see herself. Naruto has always run ahead of her with these truths, unselfish and sincere about the things she still lacks the courage to fully face. Beneath the boasting and bluster, the troublemaking and silliness, he still manages to surprise her with his honesty.

It matters even more how honest he is with her, because they are Shinobi.

Sakura knows that this old promise between them can only be fulfilled if they move forward together. In so many ways, she understands his heartaches, fears, guilt and disappointments, but she also understood his dreams. Yet, despite that, he never seemed to count how important it was that he could still bring her to her knees with laughter and reteach her to smile until her face ached with the joy of it. Maybe this time she can help him see all that he was blind to, like he has done for her.

Naruto stutters in that space and reacts to her words, his mouth forming a half thought-out excuse while he tries to pull away. She can tell immediately that he has misunderstood exactly who her earlier words were meant for. But he stills when Sakura's fingers dig into the crook of his arm and she leans in to follow his retreat. “Naruto, what I mean to say is,” she starts to clarify, turning her head to meet his slightly wounded expression. His eyes are black and gold in the darkness with no hint of blue. Still, she knows in her bones that they are as clear and bright beneath the shadows as they have always been under the light of the sun.

"Sakura-chan?" Naruto asks breathlessly, nervous and confused when she trails off. Instead, she continues to sit too close and stare into his eyes, looking a little lost. At her name, Sakura's eyes blink and she regains some focus. Her eyes fall to his frowning mouth, but he is too preoccupied now with tugging at her hand to notice. He raises his arm between them to shake her off and he needs to get away from this intimate, aching space. His profile is as grim as the line of his lips, but it is the breaking of eye contact that really helps Sakura shake out of her stupor and slacken her grip.

She still doesn't have a good response. Instead, deciding to take a page from his play book, Sakura tugs him back with a startling force. Her action surprises a _"Hey!"_ out of him as he lands none-too-softly on the roof tiles, cracking and rattling them as he tumbles into her.

"Hey, Naruto," she implores, softly but clearly as she leans in even closer. She gathers her courage to her, not unlike how she's learned to pull chakra to the tips of her tingling fingers before a release, and she tries again just like he has taught her how. "May I?" she asks with more confidence than she feels. Her body is rigid with anticipation and her eyes are on his lips again, but this time he notices her stare.

When Naruto gives a hesitant, disbelieving nod, Sakura doesn't bother to hide the sudden mischief in her smile. Not this time. Instead, she leans over to him on a cold winter's eve for another first.

* * *

**The end.**


End file.
